Love Won't Save Us Now
by howlittleyoutrustme
Summary: Season 2 AU. The rest of the world is gone, torn apart by a virus that has either killed everything, or mutated it. Storybrooke is the only place the remains untouched, due to it's magic barrier. But the barrier won't last forever. As the situation gets worse, Emma and Regina draw closer. Swan Queen. M for mature themes throughout.
1. Prelude

So, this came out of a dream that I had, and it's a rough around the edges, so bear with me. Constructive criticism is appreciated. Swan Queen is central to the story, as it focuses on Emma & Regina, but the main storyline does not revolve around them. They revolve around the storyline, in a way. Anyway, so, enough of my rambling, I hope you enjoy this, and I hope that when it gets angsty, it won't hurt too much. I hope you like this. As usual, I don't own the characters or the concept of them blah blah blah: disclaimer.

* * *

Civilisation was gone. It had crumbled away atop a mountain of mutated genes, and scientific failure. It had died on the back of a mob mentality, was crushed under the stupidity of the modern man. It was murdered by arrogance.

…

It had been three weeks since it happened. Three weeks since they had heard the warning, but two weeks since they had received any contact from the outside. There was nothing out there anymore, apart from _Them_. The radios picked up nothing after the first week, the TVs had no signal, and nothing new had been posted on the Internet. The sky had first been returned to the birds as nothing else could fly, and then been emptied of birds. The worlds had been returned to animals, and then eradicated of them. There was nothing. Nothing. Nothing out there except _Them_. The world had stopped entirely, apart from Storybrooke, and _Them_. They were the last one's left.

Out of all the world, only the small town in Maine had been left standing, or rather, had been left to be the last one to fall.

A month ago, there had been an announcement to do with a flu pandemic – to keep update with vaccinations and the like. These messages quickly turned to emergency vaccination by a new vaccine – one available only in certain states and cities. Needless to say, Storybrooke wasn't high on the list of priority vaccinations – with a population of around 1,000. Or at least, this was what the ex-Mayor told her people.

Despite having been removed from power, she was still the towns go-to for emergency protocol & announcements. In reality, the reason no Storybrooke citizen had been designated a place to be vaccinated was that Storybrooke, officially, did not exist to the general population.

It was not on any maps, and if anyone attempted to drive into it, they would have a bad accident, and have to leave, therefore leaving the town untouched. Secretly, Regina guessed that most of the town would have guessed this, but Charming was seemingly gullible enough to believe her. Only one set of green eyes questioned her at the outset, a pair of eyes that she could not meet as they watched her.

The town had no clue what exactly what happened, but when one of _Them_ stumbled into the hospital and was captured, the Doctors managed to ascertain that the hastily concocted new vaccine had mutated the flu virus, which had mutated the people who had received it.

It was also ascertained that the virus was passed through by blood, and other body fluids. This was found out when on of the nurses was bitten. Soon after this, she was terminated, along with the captured one of _Them_. _They_ were always terminated after the captured had outlasted their usefulness. As for citizens who were infected, it was officially decided by the town that each person was to leave a directive as to whether they would want to be terminated rather than 'live' as one of _Them_. This was decided…decided after the Incident.

...

* * *

Now it was just Storybrooke, saved, once more, by Magic. Magic had saved them from a fate worse than death. The bubble of Magic that prevented people from entering and leaving Storybrooke was thin, and nearly non-existent, but it was there, and it prevented the virus and _Them_ from getting through, so far.

However, the buzz that Magic gave off, that the whole town gave off (as even the smallest bit of Magic leaves a trace) drew _Them _to it. _They_ crept and crawled through the forests around the sleepy little town and were thrown back again and again by the barrier.

But, still, they watched. _They_ were always watching.

And if ever, or whenever, someone stepped out through the barrier, _They_ were on him or her in an instant. That has happened once since They came. But we won't talk about that now. Nobody likes to talk about that.

Occasionally, at night, one or two managed to get into the town, for the barrier was weaker at night, without the buzz of activity (and a minor note of desperate hope) to strengthen it. An all clear had to be sounded every morning just in case.

The town was searched thoroughly every morning by a team of ten volunteers, and any of _Them_ found were dispatched quickly and humanely, unless they were needed to further the town's knowledge of the virus. Each member of the team was equipped with a gun, fully loaded, and they moved together through the town. A back-up team was always ready in case there had been a large break-in. This had only happened once, but even one time was a time too many.

The all clear was a bell by on the Mayoral lawn. It was heard all over town and sounded, mostly punctually, unless there was a large impediment, at seven a.m every morning.

Emma Swan was in charge of the all clear every morning. She was in charge of the entire effort against them, as Sheriff of the town. After all, there was no crime anymore. Not since everybody had something bigger on their minds

...

* * *

So, just like every morning, Emma was up at the crack of dawn. With a groan, she rolled from her bed, and threw open her blinds over the newly barred window. It seemed quiet out, but you could never tell. Sometimes _They_ moved quietly.

Stoically ignoring the shut door opposite hers, and the stillness that reverberated through the apartment, Emma headed for the kitchen, kicking the unnecessary second chair that sat by the table aside. There was no need for it anymore. She would give it to the distribution centre as soon as she could.

She ate breakfast quickly, not looking around her. She needed to move out of this place. She would have done already, but Granny's was full of people who were too afraid to stay in their own homes. Aside from the mayoral house, Granny's was the most secure place in Storybrooke. After all, who would cross an old lady with a crossbow?

For a moment, she allowed herself to think of what had transpired in the town so far. She hoped, as she did every morning, that there would not be a repetition of the Incident. Even as she thought of it, her jaw clenched, and her thoughts slipped to the radiant smile that had greeted her every morning she had been in this town, until recently. The glossy black head that dipped with laughter, and the eyes that always had a spark of life in them. Until the incident. Emma sat in silence for a long moment – the seconds ticking past and stretching on as she thought.

A shout from outside startled her and, shaking herself out of her daze, she pulled her gun from the holster on the side and slammed a new clip into it, before checking it quickly over. With a nod to herself, she pulled on her jacket, and left the apartment, heading for the meeting place where the clearance party met every morning, leaving the apartment silent behind her.

Just another day.

…

* * *

I hope you enjoyed this. Regina enters in the next chapter.


	2. Exposition

Eh, I haven't updated this in months, nor have I been in a state to, until now. If anybody's still bothered about reading this, my apologies for the (massive) delay. Not much SQ in this chapter, just hints here and there. It will be brought in more and more as we roll along. Hope this is alright for everybody

* * *

Storybrooke was silent, as if an unspoken, implicit order for quiet had been issued. Actually, although an official order hadn't been passed, it was taken for granted that everybody in the town would stay quiet until the bell had tolled.

It was Emma's job to ring the bell.

Every morning, she rolled out of bed early, collected her gear (a crude assortment of weapons and equipment), made her way around to Granny's to pick up her partner, before beginning the clearing of her section.

As Sheriff, when the virus took hold of the good people of America -when the good people of America decided it was a good idea to start eating people- she was charged with formulating a plan to combat the night time invasions. It had been touch and go for a while, but she had (with a little help from a certain ex-mayor) figured out a system of clearing the town each morning. The town was divided up into square kilometres with rough boundaries being marked with chalk. Every volunteer pair was assigned a square, and was charged with clearing it each morning before anybody else was allowed outside.

Not that many of the town's citizens were desperate to venture out.

As she began the brief walk across town to Granny's, Emma was confronted by the same thoughts she found floated into her mind every morning. It was something about the quiet, the way it surrounded her, seeped into her pores – the way her only company was –well – herself, and her surroundings. If she ignored the fact that she knew the town like the back of her hand, she could almost convince herself that she was back where she had been two years ago: wandering from state to state by herself. It was a thought she wasn't sure if she found disconcerting or uncomfortable, the fact that so much could change, and yet it could feel like you could slip right back to how you were, and swear what had happened was all a dream.

'_For Christ's sake', _she thought, shaking her head and trying to dispel the thoughts that plagued her every morning, _'Enough already. You have things to do – important things- so you might as well do them.'_

By the time she rounded the turn to Granny's, however, she was faced with another reoccurring feeling that plagued her most morning; it was even more uncomfortable. It was a feeling that was like a punch in the gut, instead of the uneasy prickling of pins and needles.

Hunched against the wind stood a broad and familiar figure, head tucked down, and glassy eyes staring unwilling into the distance, as if they did not want to have to focus, but were being forced to. The bulge of a gun was clear through the brown jacket that hung off the man's shoulders – the jacket not as well fitted as it used to me, as if it's owner had lost weight, and stopped caring for it.

Emma slowly raised a hand in greeting, not wanting to break the man's reverie as she did every morning, but forcing herself to. He didn't notice her gesture. He hadn't noticed it on any morning since the Incident.

With a sigh, she continued walking towards the man, and spoke up, her voice quiet and steady, **"**Hey David, ready to get some Zeds?"

Charming looked away from the fixed point her had been staring at, and turned to face Emma, a slow, sad smile spreading over his features,"Sure am, Em, sure am"

"Then we're wasting time, let's go."

* * *

They walked in silence, like they always did. Street by street, step by step, with nothing but the slight click of the short, stacked heels on Emma's boots and the rhythmic slapping of David's holster on his side to break the heavy cloud that hung over them. There weren't many people Emma could feel comfortable in silence with (in fact there were only three) and since one was an eleven year old and the other an acerbic brunette who Emma hated to admit she felt comfortable with, David was the least complicated and most comfortable silence she could get.

Not that either of them had no points of conversation with the other though: there was plenty to say.

For Emma, she found that she could not say anything – her throat seized up whenever she tried to speak. She knew what she wanted to say, but she didn't have the words for it, nor did she think she could cope if she opened the dam and let the floodwaters through. Crumbling now was not an option, as tempting as it seem.

For David, the silence was an extension of himself. There was nothing he could say. No words to ease either of their pain, no words to convey how he felt or how he understood what she was feeling. There were just no words for how he felt. He felt monotonous, monochrome; his surroundings were soporific and featureless. The cold of the air did not sting his face, nor did the crunch or leaves under his boots elicit any response from him as it had done previously.

So, step by step, street by street they marched on, comforted by the other's presence, yet both unable to bridge the gap between them – much wider than the physical space between them.

To any onlooker, it would have looked like two people on a contemplative walk – two old friends, with no need for words, or for unnecessary interruptions. A pretty blonde woman and a handsome well built man, who were most definitely relations of some sort. You could see it in the way they walked – they were similar – and in the way they had the same glint in their eyes. It was a family stroll, an easy companionship. Well, it would have looked as such were it not for the glinting knife hanging loosely in Emma's hand, and the metal bat, (scratched with it's shine muted by dried, matted patches of something that was dark in colour) slung over David's shoulder.

* * *

Turning a final corner, the two arrived back where they had started – in front of the restaurant where signs of life were just beginning to be heard, for nothing could be seen through the windows boarded up with plywood.

Though neither voiced their opinions, the two were both obviously relieved at their quiet morning – there was no worse way to start the day than taking a Zed down, or hauling on in for testing. It would be a few minutes before either relaxed fully, though, for they had finished their clearing early, and it would be a few minutes before the other pairs called in their sections.

Clearing her throat, and finally breaking the silence, Emma spoke, "So…are you seeing Henry today? He's been asking for you. He misses you when you're not around"

A dry chuckle slipped from David's throat, "I think he just gets sick of having two mothers fussing over him all day."

Emma let out a huff, and gave the man a shove, "I don't fuss. Regina does, that's her job. In fairness though, he probably does enjoy having some guy time with you. Meaning that you should try and go over there, or take him out more than once a week. You've got the time."

Silence stretched between them for a few moments, and Emma immediately regretted the words she said, and tried to rescue herself.

"Look…I'm sorry…I know that it's…tough…on you right now, but it might help you know. Not to take your mind off things, because it probably won't help to, but it might…I don't know. Forget it.", she trailed off after a while, a shamed blush creeping up her cheeks as she muttered, "I'm an idiot"

The every present quiet crept over them once more, and it was a minute of two before Emma could look up and seek out the expression on David's face. To her surprise, he didn't look angry or upset (which made a change, as he was usually one of the two when she managed to put her foot in her mouth about the Incident).

His eyes were said, and his mouth quirked bitterly at the corners – an expression she recognized, as she saw it so often in the mirror, as well as on a small face so similar to her own, and the one in front of her – and she immediately felt small, like a child. Her eyes glazed slightly, and she felt them fogging up, so she was intensely grateful when a strong arm wrapped around her and pulled her close to a warm body.

She felt warm and safe, despite the fact that she still had issues accepting the man who was holding her so protectively as her father. Slowly, she relaxed into the embrace, until her eyes had cleared, and their peaceful bubble broken by the shrill ringing of a phone.

David released Emma, and pulled the cell from his pocket, "Hello? Yes…right…which section? There are two? And Grumpy's got the other one in his? No, don't approach it. One of us will be there in five. Bye."

A loud sigh escaped his mouth, "Look like we've got two, Em, one on the docks and one on the west side of town. Grumpy's got the one on the docks but it nearly mauled Dopey, so they need back up. Red went out on her own this morning, which wasn't too bright, so she can't tackle it by herself and needs back-up."

Emma mirrored his sigh, and ran a hand through her hair, tiredly.

"I'll go find Ruby and help her out, David. I need a word with her about Henry anyway.", she said resignedly, all hopes of a quiet morning vanquished

"Right, I'll get the one on the docks then."

"Uh-huh. Better get moving, otherwise the bell will be late. People get twitchy if that happens."

"Sure do."

Once again, they lapsed into silence, before meeting each other's eyes and giving a small smile.

"Stay safe", David said, reaching out, and squeezing Emma's shoulder just before she turned and began to walk.

She got a couple of step before she turned around and called back, "You too. Don't forget about Henry, he really does miss you."

An affirmative nod and smile was the answer she received, before her companion turned and walked briskly away, a new grim purpose to his steps as he moved. Turning, she walked too, in the opposite direction, head bent against the chill that nipped at her face, and exposed fingers that still gripped the knife in her hand.

* * *

"Got you, you little shit."

The thing in front of her hissed and writhed and she dug the blade deeper into its shoulder, baring its teeth and lunging towards her with a speed that made her jump back in surprise.

It was one that had been one of Them for a while, mutated so far that you couldn't tell its gender, or its original physical attributes. Its skin was raw, cut in places, crispy in other but mostly a pinky brown, like half-cooked meat. A jagged slit on its head was what remained of a mouth, with few teeth lining it, and no lips around it. Judging from the teeth marks the circled the filthy hole, it had either been attached by another Zed and had its lips ripped off, or had chewed them off itself.

Whatever had happened to it, it was pretty far gone.

It was probably one who had got the vaccine in the first wave, and had infected many others in the filthy half-life it was living. A Spreader Zed. It made her hate it, even though Emma knew it was its fault.

Scrambling back, Emma twisted the knife as hard as she could, ignoring the scream of pain from the creature. With a sharp yank, she pulled it from the Zed, dislodging part of its shoulder as she did so, then leapt forwards and lunged, driving the knife deep into its chest.

The Zed made a sound like gas escaping from a tire, and writhed wildly for a few moments before stilling. Disgustedly, Emma covered her mouth a nose, and pulled her knife from its chest, wiping it on the patch on grass springing up through the pavement.

The west side of town had been pretty rough anyway, but over a month of disuse and turned it into an urban wilderness of sorts. No wonder so many of Them frequented it.

"You have a light, Rubes?", Emma asked tiredly, turning to face the tall brunette who stood sheepishly, baseball bat in hand, a few steps away in an outfit that was definitely not the most suitable attire for zombie hunting ever.

The reply came as a small silver rectangle that was tossed lightly to Emma, who caught it one handed.

"Slick."

Emma snorted at the comment and turned to the corpse in front of her. They had found pretty early on that the gases that the decomposing bodies of the Zeds were pretty flammable, and made disposing of the corpses (the corpses of the corpses, that is) fairly easy.

It was one positive side to their situation.

Flicking the lighter so that it caught, Emma touched the flame to the creatures extended arm, waiting for a few moments until the limb had fully caught flame and was letting of a heady scent of rotting, smoking flesh and something akin to stale pork before stepping back and tossing the lighter back to her friend.

"Let's go, we're late for the bell"

She set off at a brisk pace, Ruby following as they trekked back into town. It was a few moments before the brunette spoke, breaking the palpable tension between them.

"You know, Lemur, maybe you should have been a zombie killer straight off, instead of a bounty hunter, or the Savior, or whatever. You're a natural."

Emma rolled her eyes at her chirpy partner, and carried on walking, "Come on, Rubes, you need to get back. Granny's going to kill me if she finds out that you going out alone was the reason the bell was late."

Laughing at the girl's immediately somber expression, Emma broke into a jog and headed for the mayoral mansion, whilst the brunette behind her shrugged, and kept pace, heading for the restaurant that was coming to life further as the day began to break fully.

* * *

Hope you liked it. Regina enters in the next chapter, and hopefully it will get interesting.


	3. First Subject

Once again, apologies for the belated update. I have to be in a certain mood for writing. Regina enters (finally) and things get a little explaining. Reviews much appreciated, and constructive criticism welcome.

* * *

They stopped at the town hall on their way to their destinations, which were separate, but not mutually exclusive, as Granny's was a stop on Emma's way to Mifflin Street every morning. Ruby immediately perched herself on the steps of the hall, baseball bat slung over one shoulders with her not-so metaphorical ears pricked; casual, but alert.

She watched silently as Emma walked swiftly over to the brass monstrosity that lay in a crudely erected frame on the lawn outside the building. It was dented, scratched, and nobody had bothered to clean it up when they hauled it down from the clock tower but it did the job it was required to do, none withstanding the god-awful noise it made when hit.

Stopping for a moment, as she always did, Emma regarded the misshapen hulk. Previously, it was something nobody gave a crap about, and had been left to bruise and age. Now, when they needed it, it was the town's saviour – it was their signal of a town free of demons for at least another day.

Strangely (or was it really that strange, if you thought about it?) Emma felt a small amount of kinship with the thing, and she felt as though she has as much in common as one could have with an inanimate object. Both were nearly broken, and were being pushed closer to their breaking point. Both had visible scars, both had been abandoned. Both had been pushed into a role they were not meant for, a role that was relied on and revered, and one they did not want (though Emma could not actually speak for the bell, she felt as though this was the case).

"You going to hit the damn thing anytime soon? Granny will kill me if I'm not back soon, and will dig me up and kill me again if she finds out went out alone this morning," Ruby piped, hidden by the misshapen lump of metal.

"Remind me why I should cover up for you on that one?," Emma replied, her voice slightly sharp, "Going out alone was a stupid thing to do."

"Werewolf, Emma. I can look after myself."

There was an eye roll clearly present in the girl's voice. It pissed Emma off. Everything pissed her off at the moment, but especially any fucking blasé attitudes towards the situation the town was in.

"Sure. So you're going to look after yourself if you get bitten because you go out alone? If you get turned into a fucking zombie? Let me know how that one goes. Or maybe you won't, because you'll be a rabid corpse trying to eat the town."

Emma's voice was steeped in acid to the extent that if there were a verbal kind of universal indicator, it most likely would be a blistering pH3. With sharp, fast movements, she pulled the tolling rope from where it was slung and gave it three hard tugs. Three loud, dissonant booms thundered past her as she stepped back from the reach of the now swinging bell.

The chimes of the bell – if the racket could be called that – had drowned out Ruby's response, something Emma was grateful of. The girl's mouth was dirtier than the door handle of a public toilet, and spewed profanities like a burst pipe. It was not something the blonde relished being the receiving end of, deserved or not.

The ice present in the brunette's expression was a little startling to see as Emma caught sight of it, given that it was usually so warm and welcoming. She swiftly turned from the glare of wolfish eyes and began to walk before stopping, scuffing the ground with one well-worn boot.

"Sorry.", she muttered, green eyes downcast.

"Forgiven.", came the muted reply, "I…shouldn't be so offhand about it. It's a coping mechanism, y'know?'

"I know."

Falling into step beside Emma, Ruby regarded the blonde for a moment before slinging an arm around her slim shoulders and squeezing playfully, "C'mon Em, Granny will have cocoa waiting for us."

"Ruby, I'm covered in zombie blood. Granny's not going to let me in her spotless café."

"You can have take-away, it's fine.", the brunette replied with a grin, glad to be back to the normal, teasing candour of their friendship, "You really stink, by the way."

"Ruby!", Emma slid from under her friend's arm and sniffed. Crap. She did stink: sweat with undertones of smoke and sweat accompanied by a whiff decomposing flesh. If she could bottle the scent, she would make millions. That is, if the US army was still interested in chemical warfare.

"Hey, if I don't tell you, who would. People in this town would never tell the Saviour that she reeked. You need somebody to keep you grounded, deflate your ego a little, that kind of thing."

"You think that when I see Regina every day, I even have an ego left?", Emma said dryly, with a wry sideways glance at Ruby.

"Point taken. You want to grab some pancakes to soften her up with?"

"Definitely."

* * *

Armed with cocoa, coffee and pancakes, Emma strode up the sidewalk towards 108 Mifflin Street. The lawns had not been mown since the first weeks of the zombie invasion -there was really no good way to phrase that- and in Emma's mind, the slightly rugged, wild look suited the place. It made it look less fake and more like an actual home, rather than the intricate dollhouse it used to seem.

Turning up the path, she heard an exclamation from inside the house as she was seen from the inside. Before she made it to the porch, the white door flew open and a blur of brown and red shot out and wrapped itself around her waist.

"Woah, kid, watch it.", she said warmly, disentangling herself from the boy quickly, "I've got hot drinks, I'm covered in blood, and I smell like an ogre. You're mom'll go nuts if it rubs off on you."

"She certainly will.", came an unimpressed voice from the doorway.

Henry let out a laugh, something that was rare for him these days, but as infectious as the zed-virus. Emma chuckled and shook her head, looking up at the source of the voice.

Leant against the doorframe, her arms folded, with the tiniest hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth was Regina, dressed to kill and quaffed to perfection. Apparently, despite every bit of madness going on around them, one thing that could not be compromised was the ex-mayors personal grooming. If only the rest of the world had been as regimented as Regina's closet was, then this crisis never would have occurred.

Emma chuckled once more, and held out the brown bag and cup carrier clasped in her hands, "Here, I have a peace offering. Take it as a bribe for letting me use your shower."

She closed the distance between them, Henry scampering at her heels. Manicured hands stretched out to receive the gift, and a nose wrinkled slightly at the overwhelming scent of cinnamon emanating from two of the cups.

With a resigned sigh – Regina had long since given up on lecturing Emma on the amount of sugar present in the hot cocoa both her son and his mother insisted on – the brunette turned on her heel and walked into the kitchen.

"We'll be in the dining room when you're done, Ms. Swan.", she called over one shoulder, quickly taking in the image of the blood-spattered blonde in her doorway, the morning light at the woman's back giving her a blurred glow, and casting her face a little into shadow.

She looked almost like an avenging angel, Regina thought; the blonde was lean, resolute and unyielding as she crossed the hall and trotted up the stairs, unlacing dirty boots with an air of familiarity which was too becoming to be fully allowed.

Setting the table quickly, Regina shook the thought from her mind. Seeing Emma blood spattered on her porch was an all too frequent sight, and one that brought back a memory of the first night it happened – the night the town's tenuous situation became terminal.

* * *

_Loud, fragmented noises drifted up to Regina, jolting her from what was an unpleasant, fitful sleep. The sounds came from her slightly ajar window, floating up from the sidewalk outside her house. It sounded like boots: hard-soled, slightly heeled ones. _

_Boot she knew the sound of all too well._

_Slipping from her bed, she made her way to the window, pulling the curtain aside with a firmly set jaw, not allowing herself to pray or bargain for what she would see down there. If she had allowed herself to beg for something, it would have been along the lines of 'please don't let Emma have been bitten'. Purely for Henry's sake, she rationalised later, when she allowed herself to consider what she was stopping herself from saying at the time._

_It was dark outside, the glow of the streetlights barely reaching midway up the lawns of the house. There was a shape in the dark, staggering up the path. Regina caught sight of a blonde head, darkened by an indeterminate substance. It was black, but then everything was black and white at this hour. You need sunlight to see colours, and there was no sun, and no colours at this moment._

_She watched for a few more moments, taking in the unsteady shape that fluttered around her lawn. It was Emma Swan, there was no doubt about it. But was she really Emma Swan? Did the blood on her belong to her, or was it somebody she had sunk her teeth into. Had she been bitten? Was she one of them now?_

_A stifled wail crept up and wound it's way into Regina's ears as she watched, and after a long moment, a pale face turned up to her own and flashed with recognition. A blackened hand was tentatively raised; unsure of the reception in would receive. _

_A frown crept over Regina's features as she turned and silently padded from her room, not bothering to pull a robe or slippers on as she turned down the hall and slipped down the stairs. From what they had found out, there was no higher brain function after infection. Which meant that Emma had not been bitten. Which meant it was safe to let her in._

_Sucking in a breath, Regina slid the newly added deadbolt aside, and turned the key, slowly opening the door, unsure of what lay on the other side._

"_Regina."_

_Her name was said shakily, by a rasping, unsteady voice, half choked, as if it's owner had just been saved from a noose. It was a sigh of relief, a cry for help and a warning all rolled into one weighted word._

"_Stay back.", Regina warned, unwilling to admit that her name spoken in such a broken way reminded her of so many things she had tried desperately to forget. She hardened her own voice and stepped out from the doorway, shutting the door firmly behind her. If nothing else, she could protect her son._

_Emma regarded the other woman, raising her hands in surrender and stepping off the porch, trembling and contrite, her shoulders hunched and hair matted with the unknown black substance clinging to her cheek. She shook a little, before trying again, her voice barely a whisper this time, "Regina."_

"_Stay. Back.", came the steely reply once more, though a step forward was taken, away from the shelter of the door._

_A cotton-covered chest heaved, fighting up and down frantically, each gasp painfully visible in the cold air around them. Stuttered syllables stumbled from trembling lips, false starts before words were actually formed._

"_It's not my blood. Not my blood."_

_Panicked eyes showed their whites, rolling back like a horse's when confronted with a brand. The woman swayed a little on her feet and nearly fell, obviously choking back a retch. She staggered forwards a few steps, before swaying down unsteadily to the porch step, falling silent. Shivers, shudders and convulsions raked the blonde's body, and she had never looked more pathetic, or more vulnerable._

_This was definitely not how an infected person looked. They glazed over, went blank after the bite – became catatonic – before having frantic convulsions, like seizures, and slowly become more and more frenzied and rabid until there was no trace of humanity left. _

_Emma was not infected, she was in shock._

"_Whose is it, Emma, whose is the blood?", Regina asked, more frantically than she would have liked to, kneeling in front of the blonde. When she got no answer she shook the blonde's shoulders, focusing eyes that should have been green, but seemed grey, on her own, "Emma, please."_

_Again, stumbled sentence fragments fell, often mouthed rather than spoken until actual words slipped out. Everything shook a little as Regina processed what was said. A white hand covered a whiter face, fingers smothering lips as if keeping words in could stop what was being said from really having happened. Eyes screwed tightly shut, and the blonde seemed not to take anything thing._

_Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil._

_Regina's sight blurred at the edges, and the world moved a little more slowly. Surely not. As Emma leant over to one side, and the contents of her stomach graced the edge of Regina's porch, Regina's only thought was 'surely not'. The world came back to her slowly, and she slipped an arm around Emma's shoulders, feeling inappropriate as she tugged the other woman to her feet._

"_Emma, we need to go inside.", she said desperately, moving towards the closed door, Emma's hand clasped in her own._

"_Inside. Right.", Emma responded, shakily and dreamily, moving forwards with Regina._

_The door swung shut behind them and their motley, sullied procession of limbs. It shut with a thud, and locks thrown back into place clicked like hollow little promises of safety, false little songs of security and infallibility._

_As footsteps grew more faint, and voices grew fainter, the only things left outside were Emma's shaky words, hung in the air like perverted carnival bunting._

"_Mary Margeret."_


	4. Modulating Transition

I seem to have found some motivation to start writing this properly again. And I figure I owe the people who have had to wait ages for an update. **Dragoncila** to answer your question (finally) the curse has been broken for quite a while. This probably splits from canon just after Cora's death in that instead of the whole trigger/neverland story line, peace is agreed with Regina and everything carries on as normal, so no magic beans or portals either.

Again, if you could find the time to leave a quick review I'd really appreciate it but if you can't be bothered, I understand. This is a zombie-free chapter, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

* * *

With practised ease, Emma trotted up the stairs and turned quickly into the bedroom that had become her honorary own. She slipped into the bathroom moving to pull at the levers of the shower before quickly shedding her clothes.

As glorious steam billowed from the shower, and fat droplets of water ran down the mirror (she had forgotten to open a window, as usual) she stepped in, letting the water rush over her. Knowing from experience that looking down would be a bad idea, she turned her face upwards into the stream of water until she knew that the spirals of red dripping from her body and hair would have disappeared down the drain. Unwilling to linger on the grisly sight pooling at her feet, she briefly allowed her thoughts to stray to the first time she had stood there, under the spray of the shower, in much the same position that she was in now.

* * *

_Emma was pulled, half dazed, through the quiet, spotless house and up the curved stairs, stumbling slightly as she climbed them at the brisk pace set by the woman in front of her. She was hushed as they reached the landing, and drawn quickly into what she could only assume was a guest room – there was no way Regina would take her anywhere else. As Regina shut the door behind them, Emma stood in the middle of the room, visibly slumped and swaying on her feet._

_A gentle push on her shoulder sent her back on to the bed, sitting with a confused thud, and looking unsteadily up at the woman who had pushed her down. Even in her compromised state of mind, Emma was aware that this was out of character, for both of them. They were not friends. Sure, they were better since the curse had broken, and both had compromised their attitudes to accommodate the other, but they weren't friends. Far from it. They were civil with one another, due to the boy who ran circles around them both, but that was as far as their relationship extended. They were like wary animals circling one another, neither wanting to break the pattern of the circle, for fear of what the other might do. Neither could quite figure the other out, and the relationship they maintained was one of distance – something that suited them both. There were no displays of kindness, empathy or understanding. _

_Why Emma had run here was beyond her. This was the last place she would consciously think of running, and to anybody who asked she would have said she'd rather run back to her the dingy jail cell of her late teens than to the pristine mansion she was in. So why was she here? She only knew that she couldn't stay with David at the hospital or in that oppressive little flat. The silence there was thick and heavy and choking, smothering Emma with whispers and taunts of another thing she had failed at. She had failed to be the saviour. Again. _

_And why was Regina being kind to her? The woman made it clear that she cared nothing for the blonde beyond the involvement she was allowed to have in Henry's life. Emma complained about it regularly to Mary Marge—. She quickly cut the thought of, refusing to fully acknowledge what had happened barely an hour ago. Instead, she turned her hollow gaze to the brunette who was staring at her with something akin to concern. _

_It was only then that Emma realised she was shaking still, trembling and quivering, and what were – though she'd never admit it – tiny whimpers still rasped out from between her teeth. Turning from the intent gaze in front of her, Emma gritted her teeth, forcing the pathetic sounds to stop, and stilling the chattering movements of her jaw. She needed to get it together. She couldn't be a mess. She had Henry and David to support and she knew full well that the woman opposite her, regardless of how gentle that woman seemed now, would pounce upon the first sign of weakness._

'_Get it together, Emma.' She though frantically, 'Tamp it down. Tamp it down.' The words ran through her head like a mantra, and the rhythm of them calmed her a little, matching her breath to them, decreasing the franticness of it. The room became a little more focused. It was a start._

"_Ms. Swan…I suggest you shower", Regina said gently from across the room, still slightly wary of the wreck of a woman stood in her guest room, "Everything you need is in there. Is that…okay?"_

_Emma tried a shaky smile, and nodded, turning too fast and nearly falling as she did so. She took three quick jerky steps to the doorway of the bathroom, and then glanced backwards, her mouth open as if to speak. Apparently she thought better of saying anything, and slipped into the bathroom, swinging the door shut behind her. The guestroom fell quickly into silence as sounds of running water and clothes being shed grew in prominence._

_Regina listened until she heard the shower door slide open, then slipped from the room, leaving the door ever so slightly ajar. It was an automatic gesture, one born from raising a child who was afraid of the dark for the first decade of his life. Hesitating, unsure of what to do next, Regina hovered on the landing for a few moments, before shaking her head, and trotting down the stairs to the kitchen. If there was one thing she had learned from the life she had led, raising a child and those awful counselling sessions Henry had guilted her into attending it was that nothing should be left to fester. Nothing should be left alone to take its own course. _

_With a bitter quirk of her lips, Regina scooped two glass tumblers from a cupboard and thought, 'After all, that's how Evil Queens are born.'_

* * *

Towelling off her hair until it was merely damp, instead of gushing water, Emma snagged a pair of jeans, a tank top (white, of course) and a shirt from her drawer, pulling a face as she saw it was a plaid one. She hated plaid. The jeans were hers – left at Regina's house as a back up supply for those nights she couldn't face to be alone in her apartment. The shirt, however, was Regina's – apparently a toss back to the mayors first year in Storybrooke, when her style was still being experimented with.

Emma was fairly sure that Regina had specifically given the shirt to her to irritate her, given the quirk of the brunette's lips when she first handed it to Emma, but she could prove nothing. If you argued with Regina and weren't a cheeky, brown-haired eleven year old, it was like arguing a case in court: the argument had to be organised, the facts clearly stated with cited references to previous occurrences relevant to the case. Evidence was to be categorised into Exhibits, and even then, you'd likely have to have a degree in PR and media relations to be able to untangle the spin Regina put on your words.

The shirt was small fry, and it would be like taking a parking ticket to the Chief Justice; in simple terms, it wasn't worth the effort, and Regina would most likely hand her ass to her on a plate.

Shaking her head to herself, Emma made her way downstairs, tossing her dirty clothes into the utility room as she passed it. Since she nearly broke the dryer, Regina had banned her from 'helping' with any household tasks relating to clothes.

As she turned into the doorway of the dining room, she paused, hearing a clattering of dishes coming from the kitchen and seeing only one dark-haired head present in the room. She leant against the doorframe for a moment, her head tilted to rest against it, before speaking.

"Hey."

Regina gave a small start, and turned, frowning a little at the grin on Emma's face from having startled her, "Is it really necessary to creep up on my like that? Surely the Saviour knows better than to put extra stress on my blackened, withered heart?"

It was Emma's turn to frown. She had thawed to Regina over the past few months, and though they weren't at the hair-braiding stages of friendship, they were making baby steps towards being able to function pleasantly around one another. This thawing meant that it made Emma uncomfortable when Regina made jokes about being evil: having seen the other woman around their son, and from catching glimpses of the woman behind the politicians mask, it was clear that she was anything but.

Deftly changing the subject, Emma walked into the room, folding her arms as she did so, "You know it's impolite not to return a greeting, Your Majesty?"

Regina wrinkled her nose, as if she was being made to swallow something sour, before pressing a mug of steaming liquid (decanted from the takeaway cup Emma had bought with her earlier) into the blonde's hands, "Good Morning."

Emma took a sip, savouring the taste of cinnamon and giving a small sigh of contentment, her eyes sliding closed for a fraction of a moment. They stood in silence for a few seconds, Emma taking a few steps forward and perching on the edge of the dining table. Regina raised an eyebrow at the gesture, but said nothing. _'It's probably payback for that dreadful plaid shirt'_, she thought as she eyed the offending item and it's criss-crossed lines of white and grey.

Moving her eyes away from the checked pattern, Regina spoke, her voice a little hesitant as she made sure Henry was still fetching bowls and cutlery from the kitchen, "You didn't come here last night…is there…was there any reason why?"

She turned her face away from Emma, staring at the blank wall in front of her as she spoke. She didn't want to pry, nor to seem liked she missed the blonde in any way (which, of course, she didn't). She definitely didn't want too seem too concerned for the blonde's welfare but it seemed there was no way to phrase that question without seeming to be worried.

There was a few beats silence before Emma responded. She took a few steps forwards, gently touching the brunette's shoulder and waiting until brown eyes swivelled around to face her own, "I was going to but…I needed some headspace. I don't seem to get much of it anymore. Sorry…did you wait up?"

"Oh…", Regina began, before turning away from the curious face in front of her once more, pausing before lying, "No, I didn't."

It was a total lie. Regina had stayed awake, first downstairs on the couch until the fire went out, then lying in bed, waiting for the tell-tale scuffling sounds that marked Emma's arrival. Not that she needed her. Not that see felt safer with the blonde in her house. Not that she had gotten used to Emma turning up at her house in the small hours of the morning, or the last ones of the night, covered in blood and seeking safety. But, in her own rewritten version of events, she had gone to sleep straight away, not thinking if green eyes and pale hair even for a second before she drifted off.

If she had been watching closely when Emma spoke, she would have seen one corner of Emma's mouth twitch – her tell. Emma hadn't walked to the mansion last night to try and prove to herself that she didn't need to, and that she didn't need Regina. Instead, she had sat up, maps spread out over her dining table as she poured over them. Sleep had come slowly, and when it finally did come, it was fleeting and disjointed – full of nightmarish images. Though, really, they could hardly be called nightmarish anymore, as they were what the whole town faced every day.

They lapsed back into silence, Regina waiting for her lie to be called out by Emma and Emma waiting for her lie to be picked up by Regina. For once, though, neither. The familiar tug Emma felt when a lie was told flared up, but she showed no external sign that it had. Regina hadn't noticed anything awry in Emma's speech, and if she had, she turned a blind eye to it. They didn't need anything complicating their situation further, and the arrangement between them was strictly taboo. What happened between them when it was dark had no bearing on how they felt towards one another in the day.

Henry bustling into the dining room, dishes and forks in hand saved them from any awkwardness. He knew little of the situation, and was just happy to have his parents together and being civil with one another most mornings. It felt like having a proper family, like the ones in his comics and in the films he saw. It was a family where there were just two parents, their kid and their parents who sometimes stopped by to make a fuss of the kid. David didn't do much of that anymore, and Gold didn't count himself as a real relation to Henry, nor did he act like one.

Any tension between the two women evaporated when Henry sat down, Regina taking her cue to fetch the pancakes that were being kept warm in the oven. Setting the stack down on the table, and rolling her eyes at the identical expressions that greeted the food, she sat and waited until the feeding frenzy had passed before taking her own portion.

It was nice – nearly too close to being an entirely domestic situation for Regina's liking – but it was nice nonetheless, and she sat quietly, sipping her coffee as her son and her…her what exactly? Her friend? No. Her protector? Definitely not. There was not a single word Regina could find to explain how she felt about Emma.

* * *

_Once in the shower, Emma slid to the floor, letting the water pound down on her back and face, watching the red-tinged water trickle off her and swirl in coy patterns around her feet. If she watched the patterns, she could almost see it again. That swirl was the colour of eyes that had turned bloodshot and crazed. That one moved like a body jerking up and down against restraints. That one curled like a piece of hair that was cut into a pixy-like bob. _

_Horrified tears slipped down Emma's cheeks, unnoticed in the rush of water that cascaded around the blond. Her eyes stung any way, and the sobs that racked her body had merely replaced her earlier shakes, so she didn't even notice she was crying. _

_From her seat on the bed, glass clasped in one hand and the other curled around her midriff, Regina heard the sobs. Setting down her glass next to the one she had made up for Emma, she took hesitant steps towards the bathroom door._

_Rapping sharply with her knuckles, Regina spoke, "Ms. Swan?"_

_A humiliated choking sound was the reply she got at first; the sound of somebody caught crying when they didn't want to be. She heard the water get shut off with a thunk and finally, a voice called back, "Out in a minute."_

_Regina hovered, again unsure what to do. She returned to her seat on the bed and as she listened to the quiet scuffling coming from the bathroom she wondered just what it was that made her so uneasy about having the Sheriff in her house in such a state. Maybe it was the fact that she had seen Emma Swan overcome with emotion before, and it had ended with blows between them. Perhaps it was the way she looked like Henry when he cried, and how her eyes and the tip of her nose got the same red-tinged look as Henry's did. That was probably it._

_She was startled from her thoughts by the bathroom door opening, and Emma stepping out, clad in a knee-length fluffy bath robe._

"_Do you…uh…have any clothes I could borrow?", Emma muttered, folding her arms, "Mine are ruined."_

_Regina passed over the leggings and t-shirt she had dug from the very back of her closet, knowing just how dirty the Sheriff's clothes were. It was doubtful that there was a single inch of that leather jacket not covered in blood, and even more doubtful that the stains would come out of the denim Emma was so fond of wearing._

_The door to the bathroom swung shut again, not fully this time, and Regina averted her eyes just as Emma dropped the bathrobe. The quick reaction did not stop her from seeing the bruises forming on Emma's ribs, or the purplish stripes that ran up the blonde's back. Feeling like a creeper, Regina picked up both of their glasses, handing Emma's to her as she exited the bathroom._

_Seeing the hesitance on Emma's face as she took in the amber liquid in the glass, Regina quirked her lips, "It's not poisoned, if that's what you're worried about."_

_This drew the smallest response from Emma – a twitch at one corner of her mouth, drawing one side up in a parody of a smile that lasted for a nanosecond. She slowly made her way across the room, and sat on the opposite side of the bed to Regina, curling her free arm around her midriff and hunching into it, as if it would offer her some protection. She took a sip from the glass, giving a small hiss as it burnt her lips._

"_What happened, Ms. Swan?", Regina asked in a muted voice, twisting her body so she could face the other woman._

"_I…really just…don't want to talk about it."_

"_I can't help if you don't tell me what happened."_

"_I don't need your help.", hissed Emma, suddenly defensive_

"_What happened to Snow?"_

"_Don't say her name." _

_Emma practically spat the last sentence, throwing back the rest of the glass of whisky in an angry gesture. She set the glass down on the table next to the bed with a thump, a turned, her top lip curled in an angry sneer, and her eyes glistening with anger, "You don't get to say her fucking name."_

_Regina immediately leant forwards in response; her own eyes narrowing as she prepared to fight back. It was then that she remembered just how pathetic Emma Swan looked in this moment, with her damp hair, ill-fitting clothes, red-rimmed eyes and shaky voice. She looked the child that had been tossed out like trash, the child that had been left on the side of the road. If ever there was a poster made showcasing what abandonment could do to people, in this moment Emma Swan would be the one on it. Regina took a calming breath, and leant back, sipping the last of her whisky, and placing it down without aggression, as if that action could defuse the situation._

"_Look, Ms. Swa—Emma. Something traumatic has obviously happened, and if you won't tell be what, so be it.", she began, "However if, after I've let you in my house, you are rude and abrasive, you will have an even more traumatic experience to look forwards to."_

_A bitter, loud laugh tore from Emma's lip. Blonde hair was thrown back with laughter, which was actually half-sobbing, "More traumatic than seeing your own mother get turned into a zombie? More traumatic than having to help your father slit her throat then burn her? Lady, even you couldn't pull that off."_

_As her laughter died down, Emma turned to face Regina. A sombre, shocked face greeted her - one that was swiftly distorted by the rare sight of openness and sympathy. A hand crept up to cover lips that were usually painted bright red, and Regina turned her face away, hiding moistened eyes and a sick feeling that crept up from her stomach. As she regained some composure, she turned back to the blonde, whose tears were falling freely now._

_Unsure of what to do (what was it about the other woman that took decisions making skills from Regina?) she scooted across the bed, and gingerly put an arm over Emma's shoulders – a gesture that Emma visibly shrunk back from, but did not throw off._

"_Look at me, Emma.", Regina said, finding her voice at last, and pulling together a convincingly commanding tone that was enough to draw unwilling eyes around to her own, "There's nothing you can do once people are bitten. I'm sure you did everything you could. David too."_

_Another manic laugh slipped from Emma's lips, "That's what you think? I did fuck all, Regina. I couldn't stop it. I couldn't save her."_

"_But you tried."_

"_I all ever fucking do is try. That's all anybody does. It's never enough."_

_They lapsed into silence once more, the fight going out of Emma. She sank back, and allowed Regina's arm to slip around her waist, drawing smooth arcs over her back. _

_Regina sighed, then pulled her arm from where it was curled around the other woman. She was surprised when Emma turned, seemingly upset by the withdrawal._

_Regina met Emma's eyes, and then explained, pointing to the bed, "You need to sleep."_

_Without arguing, Emma stood and climbed into the bed, slipping under the covers and regarding Regina for a moment, "Are you going to leave?"_

"_Not if you need me to stay."_

_A curt nod was the response to that – a much as the blonde's pride allowed. She turned away as Regina climbed into the bed beside her. Sniffles and shaky sobs came from behind her as Regina lay still. She did not move, nor attempt to comfort the blonde. She was sure the other woman didn't want it. They lay with their backs to each other for some time, before Regina became sure that Emma was asleep and tried to move from the bed._

_An unsteady hand shot out and clasped around her wrist, keeping her where she was._

"_Regina…please." _

'_Please. Please don't go. I don't want to be alone. Please don't leave.' Emma thought, frantically searching the brunette's eyes for something that would compel the brunette to stay, and articulating everything inside her head that she couldn't force out into words, 'You can't leave me alone as well. Not now. No.' _

"_Stay…Please."_

_Brown eyes held green for a long, uneasy moment, before Regina softened and relented, sliding between the soft sheets once again, lying with her front to Emma's back, nearly touching, but not quite. The blonde's crying continued. Tentatively, Regina reached out one arm and placed in on Emma's side, tracing patterns with her fingertips in the way that always calmed Henry down._

_As she heard the shuddering breathing next to her calm a little, and the racking sobs start to recede, and Emma curled a little closer, allowing Regina's arm to slip over her stomach, Regina spoke softly – so softly it was nearly not heard._

"_I'll stay."_

* * *

__Hope you enjoyed it! If you could review, that would be fantastic.


	5. Second Subject

This chapter and the next are not fantastic, so bear with me on it. I'll try and make it worth it. Enjoy, and please review if you get a minute.

* * *

Casting a casual glance around the dining room, Emma's eyes came to rest on the clock, and she gave a small start as she saw what to two hands were pointing to, "Crap, is that the time? Looks like I'm going to have to run, we're supposed to be meeting at Granny's."

Henry paused and rolled his eyes at Regina, who was obviously not amused at Emma's forgetfulness.

"I suppose this means I'll be dropping Henry to school today?", she said slowly, eyeing Emma as the blonde darted around, gathering her things.

"Nope, I got it. I don't want you two going out by yourselves. It's not safe.", Emma responded, shrugging her jacket on, which was clean and thankfully free of blood.

Another eye roll from Henry, accompanied by one from his mother this time, "Ms Swan, I have ruled half a dozen kingdoms and laid siege to a dozen more. Parents used to tell their children stories about me to scare them into obedience. I think I can look after my son and myself."

"I cower in terror at your feet, Your Majesty. But, as I'm sheriff, and you're technically not the Mayor and I have a say in what happens to our son, we're going together."

"I think not.", came the unimpressed reply from the brunette as she blew on steaming coffee.

"Well I think so, and we're leaving now.", Emma replied, one step away from sticking her tongue out, "Henry, get your stuff. And don't roll your eyes at me again, kid, it's not good for my self-esteem."

The boy gave a grin, and slid from his chair, trotting upstairs to grab his school bag.

Regina eyeballed Emma from across the dining room.

"What?", the blonde said, looking up from strapping her holster under her shirt.

"Why are you walking me to work and Henry to school? You'll be late. Or later, I should say.", Regina asked curiously, "I could take him."

"I don't want him to get hurt."

"Do you not think I can look after him?", Regina said, slightly incensed by Emma's words, "Do you think I can't protect him?"

"Hey, no, chill out! I know you can protect him, trust me, I've been on the antagonistic end of that protective instinct", Emma replied, raising her hands in mock surrender, "Look, I'm just worried. There were two of them in town this morning, and Zeds breaking through the barrier is starting to get more coming, especially in the mornings and evenings. I don't want either of you getting hurt."

Regina surreptitiously raised an eyebrow at Emma's last assertion and watched with amusement as Emma tried to cover her slip.

"For Henry's sake, I mean. Not that I don't care if you get hurt but…for Henry's sake…yeah", Emma finished lamely. At the smirk on Regina's face, she rolled her eyes, "Anyway, would it be that much of a leap for you to think that maybe, I'm a fairly decent person and I would care if you got hurt? I mean, we are kind of…I don't know what we are, but me turning up here most nights goes hand in hand with me caring, right?"

"I would say so, yes.", Regina said neutrally, waiting and watching the cogs turn in Emma's mind.

"Damn it, Regina.", Emma muttered after a few moments, with another roll of her eyes, "You just wanted to see me squirm, didn't you?"

"Why else?"

'_Oh, I don't know, because you wanted me to admit I cared about you?'__**, **_Emma thought with an internal pout before replying verbally, "Yeah, why else."

As Henry thundered back downstairs, and Regina stood and fetched her coat, Emma muttered and scuffed the tip of her boot of the immaculate floor, giving both her boots and the floorboards a slightly grumpy glare, "Why else?"

* * *

They left the house briskly, Emma leading the way, Regina following, with Henry sandwiched between them. He, after all, was their priority. Storybrooke was still deathly quiet at this time in the morning, most people waiting until the second all clear bell was rung at 9am. You couldn't be too careful these days, after all.

After what had occurred at the school when the situation first became critical, the school had been moved to a series of empty rooms in the town hall, close enough to the centre of the town and staffed by enough adults to ease parent's worries a little. Many parents had taken it upon themselves to act as a kind of guard for the children, sitting outside the entrance to the makeshift school, and hovering outside town hall when the kids were let out for their breaks.

Needless to say, Jefferson was behind a large amount of the protectiveness, and had organised the move to town hall after the incident at the school. There was nothing that could separate the man from his daughter, after having lost her (and knowingly done so) in the past. Of all the parents there, he was the most fiery about the safety of the school, running at a close second to David who, though he didn't have a child at the school, was as involved in the safety of it as much as any parent there. It was hardly surprising, really, given what had happened.

As the reached the hall, Henry attempted to sneak off with just a wave to his mothers, but was quickly pulled back at the reprimanding stare Regina gave him. With a sigh, he flung his arms customarily around both of his mother's midriffs for a brief moment, before running off to catch Ava and Nicolas, standing nervously on the steps of the hall with their father.

Emma and Regina followed after him, Emma stopping to chat with Michael quickly as Regina walked on. As she noticed Regina wasn't waiting for her, Emma moved away, cutting of the mechanic (she still didn't think of him as the woodsman, or whatever he had been before the curse) with an apologetic smile and a rushed, "See you at Granny's!"

She took the steps two at a time as she followed Regina, catching the other woman just as she was about to turn into her office, "Hey, nice of you to wait for me."

Regina sighed and walked into her office, Emma quickly following, "I didn't think it was necessary."

"Oh, I didn't realise that a goodbye had become a redundant part of American culture. Or that a 'thanks Emma' for walking me to work was null as well", Emma said, folding her arms as Regina hung her coat up and dropped her bag on her desk.

Sounding bored, Regina responded, "I didn't ask you to walk me to work, nor did I ask you to come to my office. Why should I thank you for something I didn't want you to do?"

"Seriously, your mood swings are giving me whiplash," Emma went on, as if Regina hadn't spoken, "So we can sleep in the same bed at night, can be civil when it's dark and, y'know, you can get me to admit that I might care about your safety but you can't say goodbye or thank you? Does the sunlight burn away your civility? Or are you just allergic to being friends with anybody but your son? 'Cause if you are, that's fairly sad."

"Did you just quote Twilight at me, Ms Swan?'

"That's what you choose to take from it? You're going to ignore the rest of what I said? When the quote was a sentence, and the rest of what I said was basically a monologue? Jesus."

"Generally if somebody quotes an atrocious teen film at me the rest of what they say isn't likely to interest me in the slightest."

"Fine. Whatever. You win. Be bipolar. I don't care.", Emma said, irritated, throwing her hands up, "You can walk yourself home tonight. Don't bother making up the guestroom either."

She began to walk out of the room, stopped by Regina clearing her throat slightly.

"What?", Emma said, not turning around.

She heard clicking footstep behind her – the sound of Regina's heels – before she heard them come to a halt directly behind her. She then felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning, she was confronted with a pair of smouldering eyes, and a red apple in an outstretched hand.

"Goodbye, Ms Swan.", Regina said lowly, tilting her head to one side in something that was both an apology and a dismissal – mostly a dismissal though. It was a dismissal with just a hint – a whiff – of an apology about it, barely noticeable to one unpractised in the ways of untangling the outgoing communications of Regina Mills.

Emma regarded her for a moment, catching the small apology, and accepting it was all she was going to get, before taking the apple; "See what I mean about whiplash?"

When she got no response, she sighed, and rolled her eyes before speaking again, "I'm still not walking you home."

Walking back to her desk, Regina called over one shoulder, "I didn't ask you to, did I?"

Shaking her head to herself, Emma left the room, shutting the door with a firm click as she left.

Regina sat and watched the door for a moment, hoping quietly that the handle might turn and the woman who just left would re-enter. It didn't, and she didn't. Giving a small sigh, and wondering why she even cared, Regina pulled the ever-increasing pile of paper on her inbox closer to herself. Emma Swan, despite being in closer proximity to her than ever, was still a mystery.

What Regina found odd was that Emma seemed to be pushing her for something more than just civility.

What Regina found odder was that she wanted to be pushed – the pushing and pulling was the trademark of their relationship. It was what she was being pushed towards that she was wary of, and she was half convinced that Emma didn't know either.

But, again, why did she even care? Why did she care at all?

* * *

Emma turned the apple in her hands as she left the hall, before remembering she was late and breaking into a jog. She gave a small groan at the realisation that she would have to change and shower again, this time at her own house, or settle for wearing Regina's clothes which would not fit her, and Regina was unlikely to lend her without some form of compensation and retribution.

Given their exchange a few minutes ago, an easy negotiation was not in the works today or any other day.

She made it to Granny's in a few minutes, panting slightly as she swung open the door and walked in. Makeshift beds were being rolled up off the floor, and pillows pushed to the side of the room. Giving Ruby a small smile, Emma joined in with the effort, and they had the floor cleared in minutes.

Granny spread a map on the bar, gesturing for Emma to come over.

Around the other booths, different groups of people were gathering. They established fairly early on that every body partaking in all aspects of keeping the town safe wouldn't work. So Granny had suggested they split up into groups.

There were day rangers, who patrolled the edges of the barrier in the daytime. Several groups took turns at this, but the dwarves co-ordinated the effort, whilst also being in charge of clearing the mine out as a last-resort bunker.

Jefferson was, as ever, not present, but technically in charge of making sure that the children of Storybrooke were safe or, at least, in a place where they could be protected.

Whale was in charge of any corpses that were to be studied, and in charge of any research the town overtook. He was reluctant in his role, but well suited to it, given his past. Everyday that went by, he seemed to grow more gaunt, and twice as alcohol saturated. The nuns and nurses who supported the research were trying with him, but the whole zed business struck a little too close to home for him to be in anyway okay.

The wellbeing of the town fell to Dr. Hopper, with his office being stacked out from 9 to 5 with people who just could not cope with what was going on. He had been forced to turn to group sessions as a way to lesson the strain on his practice, and well as enrolling some of the more sympathetic nuns –fairies- as his aides.

The rest of the town spilt up into more disaster-type units, each in charge of something, and everybody did their best. It wasn't nearly enough, but at least they were trying.

As Sheriff, Emma was in charge of the entire town, and as there was technically no Mayor, everything fell to her. And Granny, luckily. She was the town's rock in the midst of the chaos, and Emma was entirely glad for the stocky woman's stoicism and her aim with a crossbow.

Granny quickly began talking as Emma sat, about the town's borders, and the ranger patrols. Emma tried to follow it, and make helpful suggestions, but it was clear that the older woman's run through with Emma was cursory and nothing more. She had it down to a t.

"Well, looks like you've got it covered. I need to have a word with Whale. We good?", Emma said, receiving a curt nod in reply as Granny turned and walked off, grabbing the map and a tray of coffee as she went.

Emma approached the drunken man cautiously, knowing his tendency to flare up, "Hey Whale. Nova said you had one you wanted to show me?"

Whale visibly blanched, but nodded and stood, albeit unsteadily. Without replying, he walked (if it could be called that) towards the door of Granny's and left, leaving Emma to run after him.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed, apologies for the lack of cannibalistic life forms - after the next chapter, things get a little more zombie heavy.


	6. Bridge Passage

Two chapters in one day - what is this? Finally another zombie appearance, hope you enjoy it.

* * *

It was cold under the hospital – it wasn't worth heating it, and the morgue had to be chilled anyway, so it was always cold.

Not that Emma ever remembered to wrap up in preparation for it.

She followed Whale through the dingy corridors and dank staircases until their reached the morgue, half of it neatly sectioned off.

An inhuman screech greeted them as they entered the room.

"It's alive? What the fuck, Whale.", Emma exclaimed as she heard it.

The steel of the refrigerated drawers (Emma couldn't remember the proper name for where they stuck the bodies) shone in the strip-lights and Emma curled her nose up at the dried blood and small amounts of purplish brown flesh stuck to the empty gurneys lined up in the taped off part of the morgue. She could have made a comment about how it was like something from a horror film, but seeing as they were practically living one, it would be a cheap joke.

"It was knocked out as it came through the barrier. Patrol brought it here.", the man replied, pulling on a gown and mask and tossing a set to Emma and gesturing for her to do the same.

They ducked under the tape, taken from the Sheriff's office, and eyed the curtained off corner cautiously.

Whale struggled to tie the mask, his hands shaking as he fiddled with the strings of it. Emma eventually took pity on him (and herself) and gave him an elasticised one from a box on the side as well as rubber gloves.

At the look he gave her, she shrugged, "They were there, and I'm lazy."

They fell silent as they approached the curtain. Pulling on his gloves, Whale slipped past the curtain. Emma followed.

She immediately recoiled at the smell – softened a little by her mask, but not by much – and the sights that greeted her.

It was strapped to the bed, this one fresher than the one she had killed this morning; it was still vaguely recognisable as human and as female – it had long, matted, dank hair, ripped out in places and falling out in other. Its nose was gone, leaving a jagged hole in the centre of its face but its other features were in tact. The human qualities of it made it more disturbing than the other one.

It did look human. Just.

Bloodshot eyes swivelled to stare at them as they approached, not yet close enough to touch it. It opened its mouth again, letting out another screech that sounded as if a first-time violin player was bowing on it's vocal chords and showcasing jagged stumps and seeping gaps were teeth were or used to be.

"Like the others, it's showing no signs of higher brain function beyond what one would expect from say, a bear, or tiger. That's according to Pocahontas, anyway", Whale began clinically, slurring his words a little as he bustling around, adjusting sedatives and the restraints as the Zed writhed on the table.

The restraints were classic leather straps, for when they had kept one down with metal ones, it had bashed itself free by ripping it's hands from its wrists and ending up with one foot hanging as if on a hinge. It was sans the top of it head by the time it had broken free, with its brains poking out the top of it, and shuffling along on one foot and a stump of the bottom.

Emma had vomited several times after having to see the Zed's corpse. Why the towns people felt like they had to validate their actions by showing Emma the dead bodies of the dead bodies was beyond her, but it made her sick to the stomach.

"It has some animalistic intelligence, but nothing else. It's essentially been reduced to its base instincts, like evolution decomposition. Its body no longer functions beyond what the virus controls – the brain – so it doesn't heal itself, doesn't feel pain and doesn't respond to stimuli such as touch. All of its surface nerve endings are dead. Watch."

Whale brandished a syringe and poked the creature multiple times, eliciting no response but antagonised hissing from his presence. Emma blanched a little at the sight of muscles writhing, exposed to the air by flaps of skin, or no skin at all, "I get the picture."

"My guess would be that the virus is mostly advanced nanotechnology – something that was meant to kill a disease or immolate against another virus – that went rogue and stopped the heart whilst keeping the brain alive. However, that would only last for so long. I think the magic of the barrier, and the magic in this town, is sustaining them, and keeping them alive.", he continued, ignoring the creature's squeals and whines, "They're drawn to it, and you remember how all of the birds died after it spread here? I think all of the others, but the ones around Storybrooke, are dead. Bad news is, there are probably thousands around Storybrooke – the magic drew them in from all over the tri-state area."

"Right. We done here?"

Whale looked up from what he was doing, "What?"

Emma gave him a look of bemusement, "We're done here, right? There's nothing else to do but…terminate it?"

"I suppose so. But don't you care about what its like and what caused it?"

Emma stepped back through the curtain, stripping off her gown, mask and gloves as Whale followed her this time, "I care about keeping the town going whilst we figure out what to do. Figuring out what caused it is yours. Being sober is yours. Try and be good at one of those things, and I'll try and keep us alive."

Maybe it was harsh, but Emma was having a shitty day and had no patience for Whale and his problems.

She had her own.

In fact, she had 99 problems and 98 came from the town being besieged by zombies. The remaining one was probably the least fixable of them – her situation with a certain brunette.

"Finish it.", she said to Whale, keeping her face carefully blank, "And don't waste the morphine. We only have a little."

She walked from the room quickly, stopping halfway down the corridor to clutch her stomach and bend down, her head between her knees as she tried to calm herself, and tried to block out the lingering scream that was quickly cut off by a dull thud.

The sound of the incinerator roared past her and she retched before standing and sprinting for the exit.

She had to get out.

* * *

Emma sighed and took the porch steps in one bound, hovering there for a second before slipping around to the back, knowing that Regina would have left the door open for her there. It would give her a couple of minutes before she had to have Regina, at least.

After the hospital visit, Emma had spent the rest of the day with one of the day ranger patrols, overseeing them and making sure the barrier had shrunk or gotten any weaker. It had done both. She had told the patrols to move back and in a mile, bringing them closer to town, and keeping a little distance from the border.

The last thing they needed was another accident.

The 'Welcome to Storybrooke' sign was well out of the barrier's protection now.

All she wanted to do was to eat, curl up and sleep for a week. She'd probably do none of the above now she was at the mansion, but she couldn't face the apartment. Not tonight.

As she walked into the kitchen, her bad day had got obviously worse.

"I thought you weren't coming tonight." Regina was in the doorway of the kitchen, her arms folded and her expression neutral.

"I…uh…wasn't", Emma said, shutting the back door behind her and stepping further into the room.

"And, yet, here you are. Again"

"I guess I am."

"Bad day?"

"You have no idea."

Regina gestured to a mug on the sideboard, steaming and smelling strongly of cinnamon. She had known Emma was coming.

Emma took the mug and sipped at it, wincing as it scalded her tongue. They fell into silence for a few beats, neither of them wanting to nudge the elephant in the room and risk it goring them. Regina walked into the room properly, and stood in the centre of it, watching Emma sip her drink.

"What do you want?", Regina said suddenly

"What?" Emma put her mug down on the side, narrowing her eyes.

"What do you want from me? You're pushing for something, I just don't know what."

Emma watched Regina for a moment, for taking a couple of steps closer, into her personal space, "What do you think I want?"

"Don't evade. Answer the question.", she replied coolly, unfazed.

Emma took another step forwards, "I want you…"

"Excuse me?", Regina squeaked, jerking backwards into the kitchen island.

"Chill out. I want you to stop treating me like crap. I want you to acknowledge that we're on equal footing. I want to see the Regina that I meet most nights to actually appear in the light of day." Emma said, smirking a little at Regina's response to her first three words, "I mean, she comes through sometimes, but then you push her straight back down and lock her away again."

Each sentence was punctuated with another step, until Regina was leant back against the kitchen island, and Emma's thighs were nearly brushing her own, and their eyes were locked.

"Why won't you let her out? You swing from one extreme to the other – you're fine with me one minute, then you're treating me like you used to. I really don't think that's fair, and I don't think that's entirely easy on you, either."

Regina shook her head, and took a few steps to the side, slipping out from under Emma's intense gaze, and close proximity.

"And I think that you're as fucked up as I am right now – beside the obvious, I mean. I don't think you can trust anybody, and that you got me to admit that I care about you so that you can try and get me to stop.''

Silence hung in the air for a few moments before Regina spoke, composing herself before she did so, "I don't know what you're talking about. Really, I don't know where you get these fanciful ideas. You're in my bed every night because I feel sorry for you, and because my son would be upset if you turned into a blubbering wreck. I couldn't care less if you cared about my wellbeing or not, and I suspect you only do for my son's sake, as I do for you."

She took a breath and continued, aware of Emma's stony expression – a sign that she was hitting the blonde where it hurt.

"I'm kinder to you at night because you're fragile and you need it, not because I care. Dr. Hopper may have got his PhD from a curse, but I certainly do know about how to deal with psychologically compromised individuals, I can assure you. I suggest you ground yourself. Over thinking this situation would not be beneficial to you when you're still grieving."

Emma took three sharp steps forwards and grabbed Regina's arm, spinning the brunette to face her and bringing their faces close. Regina's expression was so like the one she had seen so often in the past – as she stormed from Regina's office, and the brunette tore her down in front of the town council – that she nearly punched it from Regina's face. They stood still for a few moments, Regina visibly tensing and her chest beginning to heave, though her smirk was still in place, before Emma spoke.

"Fuck you.", she spat, her eyes cold as they traced Regina's face for any sign of emotion. They found none.

With a sound of disgust, Emma roughly let go of Regina's wrist and turned, grabbing her keys and phone from where they lay in the key-dish, next to Regina's.

The next sounds Regina heard were the slamming of doors and the starting of a car engine. She stood in silence, slumping back against the countertop, her face still blank and she forced everything she was feeling into little glass bottles, hidden inside her as she boxed them away, one by one, refusing to let herself feel anything once again.

Eying Emma's half full mug that laid on the countertop, Regina stalked over and picked it up, clenching her jaw and scrunching her eyes tightly shut. She was still for a few moments, until she surged forwards and hurled the mug across the room.

She heard it smash, but barely; her heart thundered in her ears too loudly for any sound to take precedence over it.

After that, she stood there for a long time, breathing heavily as she watched the cold cocoa drip down her kitchen wall.

She moved a long time later, wearily pulling a cloth from a drawer and kneeling beside the shattered mug. A pool of hot chocolate was forming on the floor, and she regarded it stonily, cursing the day that Emma Swan and her fucking cinnamon hot chocolate walked into, and all over, her life.

* * *

Again, reviews are much appreciated, let me know what you think, and anything I could do better.


	7. Coup de Theatre

This story is literally what I've been doing instead of studying for my exams. Be grateful - I've chosen Swan Queen Fanfiction over grades that will impact on my future. Hope you enjoy, again, and please review.

* * *

It was cold. The drive back to her apartment was unpleasant, and she nearly had to pull over twice – once when tears nearly overwhelmed her, and once when she could barely see for the red edges to her vision.

She was numbed by the anger – the kind of anger that's so intense it blocks everything but the felling of thunderclouds in the pit of your stomach. The cold didn't bite her like it usually did, and the emptiness of the streets didn't bug her, for once. It was almost a good feeling, this numbness.

She recognised it from the times she had shut herself off from emotion before. Not feeling anything is better than feeling like shit. Feeling nothing is better than feeling pain, or cold, or loss, or betrayal.

Once back in her apartment, Emma's police walkie-talkie crackled – finally back in range. She tried to ignore it, tried to drown herself in her anger, but the irritating crackling broke through and she finally snatched it up, snapping a curt "What" as she pressed the button.

"Sheriff! Finally!", a disjointed voice shouted back, "We need support out on the barrier!"

This made Emma sit bolt upright, "What the hell are you doing on the barrier at this time of night? You're meant to have dropped back, and you know we don't patrol at night."

"Emma – it's David. And Sidney Glass. They went over."

"What?!"

"Sidney went over – he was following one, trying to take pictures. He ended up getting chased over by a group of them. David went after him. You know…you know how he is about people getting bitten…"

"Shit."

It was more an exhalation than a spoken word, but it hung in the air like it had been shouted from the rooftops.

"Sheriff, what do we do?", came the crackling voice again.

"Shit. Fall back to where you're supposed to be. I'll be out there in ten minutes. Do not go over the barrier. Do not go over. Got it?"

"Got it."

The device stopped crackling, and she clipped it onto her belt after staring at it for a second. Standing and moving with fast, jerky motions, Emma grabbed a rucksack and started throwing bits in – extra ammunition for her gun, lighter fluid, a spare lighter, a torch, batteries, two kitchen knives and two litre bottles of water. She stared at the first aid kit before throwing it in, almost as an afterthought.

It probably wasn't needed: if you got injured outside the barrier, no amount of bandages or sterile water could save you. You were as good as dead.

Slinging on her jacket, she felt its her pocket for her phone. It was there. Right next to her holstered gun.

First pulling her hair back in a tight ponytail, the hefting her softball bat, she made for the door. She stopped short as she saw a shiny pair of keys hanging from the hooks by the door.

August's bike.

A grim smile fixed itself on her face, and she tossed her car keys to the countertop, pulling the unfamiliar ones off the hook.

She would be damned if she was loosing another parent to those filthy Zeds.

And if she did loose him, and she was damned, at least she could go out with a bang. That would give Regina what she wanted. She'd be gone, and the Mayor could have Henry. They'd both be happy.

The garage under her apartment was empty but for a white shape under a dustsheet. She pulled the sheet off, wrinkling her nose at the dust that came off it. As it settled, her smile grew bigger.

A sleek, black shape faced her – all chrome and black leather.

Tucking her bat into the straps of her backpack, she slid onto the seat, fumbling with the keys and then hitting the ignition. The engine roared to life.

Another grin.

She roared out of the garage and down the street, not noticing, and not caring that faces appeared at windows as she went, watching the figure in black with its mane of gold hair speed out of sight on the back of a motorbike that nearly matched her jacket in colour.

* * *

She reached the new border in a matter of minutes. It was hard to miss – there was a group of ten or so people, all in florescent hi-visibility jackets milling around a tree stump, looking anxious.

Emma slowed to a halt, and kicked down the stand, jumping gracefully off the bike and walking over. Relieved nods and murmured greetings met her as she approached the group.

"When did they go?", she asked, directing her questions at Leroy, who was obviously in charge of the group.

" 'Bout 7. It was the last patrol, and Sidney got too big for his boots – he went from where the new patrol route was back out to the barrier. Problem is, the sun was setting and there were a load of Zeds up there. He got chased off. It was probably 7:45 by the time Charming got out there. He wouldn't take no for an answer, just went straight out after him…"

Emma shut her eyes and let out a long breath. Mary Margaret's death had affected them all badly – it had shaken the entire town – but it got David the worst, obviously. He stayed with her until the last of the flames on her went out, and stayed by her for four days solid. Then he buried the ashes and went on.

Leroy had tried to comfort him and talk to him about it, and had ended up with a broken nose and a dislocated shoulder. Archie hadn't been able to get him to talk. Whenever anyone got bitten, David was the first person on the scene, trying everything to stop the mutation process and failing each time.

Each time he failed, he became more and more recalcitrant, until just about the only people he spoke to where Henry, Emma, Regina and Grumpy. Nobody mentioned Snow's name in front of him anymore.

She took a second to compose herself before continuing, "Either of them have phones on them? Walkie-talkies?"

"Nope, nothing. They had turned all of their gear in at the end of the patrol."

"Shit."

"You got that right, sister."

The rest of the patrol was gathering now, waiting to see what Emma would tell them to do. They were tough men and women – some of the toughest in Storybrooke – and that was the reason they did the first and last patrol shifts. They weren't afraid of dying. Or getting bitten. Whichever was worse.

Still, Emma couldn't ask them to risk their lives. Not for her, not for David, and not for Sidney. Going outside the barrier would directly contravene the guidelines the town had made in the first week of the crisis. It would contravene her rules, and Regina's. It had to be done.

Moving slowly, she pulled the Sheriff's badge from her belt, and pressed it into Leroy's hand.

"I can't go out there as the Sheriff. The town needs someone to keep it in order. Get Regina to help you.", she said evenly, meeting the dwarf's eyes and raising her chin defiantly at the shocked looks she was getting.

"Emma, you can't.", he replied gruffly, shaking his head, "I won't loose another Charming to the Zeds."

"Well it's a good thing for you I'm a Swan and not a Charming, isn't it?", she replied, pulling her bat from her bag straps and adjusting her grip.

She made for the barrier, but was blocked by half of the patrol in her way. Leroy shook his head, "We can't let you go out there, sister."

Calmly, Emma regarded him. Her next move was to pull out her gun, and slam down the hammer.

"Move or I'll shoot you."

"You can't do this, Emma.", came another voice from along the line, supporting Leroy's words.

"You really think I won't"

She raised the gun, and let off a shot just over Grumpy's head, "Get out of my way, Leroy."

He didn't move. She fired again, closer to him this time.

He didn't flinch.

Sighing, she stepped forwards until her the hot barrel of her gun was on his chest, "Move."

"No."

Emma clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes, shuffling the grip on her bat. Then pulled down the hammer of the gun again, then swung with the bat, connecting with the side of Grumpy's head with a sickening crunch.

Ignoring the incredulous, angry cries of the patrol, Emma sprinted off into the dark, towards the barrier, not stopping until she felt the shivering sheen of the magic border pass over her.

She felt no regret for what she had done as she made her way into the forest, torch in one hand, and bat in other.

'_I'm coming for you, David'__**, **_she thought as she walked, shining the torch on the ground and finding a familiar pair of boot prints in the mud, half-aware of dead eyes tracking her through the darkness, and soft footsteps following her own as she walked deeper into the woods.

* * *

Back in the town, Leroy grumbled and held an icepack to his head, muttering something about 'fucking Charmings' and their 'stupid, arrogant egos' as he sat at the bar, and was fussed over by the nuns. Not that he minded being fussed over by the nuns, though.

Ruby sat next to him, pressing him to tell her everything Emma and David had said and done, wincing a little as he described Emma nearly shooting him.

"We can't do nothing!", she protested as he sat stoically, refusing to plan a way to go past the barrier.

"That's what she told us to do, sister.", he replied, gratefully sipping the beer that had been placed in front of him by Granny, "And we're going to respect that. We don't want no-one else getting hurt."

"Fine. Do what you want. I'm going to at least find out if she's okay.", Ruby said bluntly, whipping out her phone, thumbing through until she found Emma's number, turning her back on Grumpy.

Ruby pressed the call button on the phone, the diner falling nearly silent as the people turned and watched her, and the phone began to ring.

'_I need a hero. I'm holding out for a hero 'till the end of the night. And he's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast and he's gotta be fresh from a fight.'_

Sitting at her desk in her study, Regina looked around in surprise as an unfamiliar ringtone greeted her. She stared at the blackberry on it for a moment. That was definitely not her ringtone. And come to think of it, her phone wasn't as scratched and battered as the phone on her desk was. She turned the black cuboid over in one hand before hesitantly raising it to her ear, wincing at the melodramatic, blasting crescendo playing in her ear.

"Hello?"

"Em—Regina? Why are you answering Emma's phone? Are you with her?", Ruby asked, confused and frowning at her end of the phone. If Emma was back at Regina's house, then there was no need to worry. Then again, if Regina was with her outside the barrier then god only knows what was happening out there.

The nearby occupants of the diner looked up in surprise. In a small town, nothing could be hidden, and even in times of crisis, the wheels of the rumour-mill kept turning. What was Regina doing with Emma's phone?

Regina frowned for a second, connecting the dots at the waitress' anxious voice echoed through to her. When Emma stormed out, she had grabbed her keys and phone from the key dish. Where Regina's keys and phone also lay. They had the same model phone – Henry had commented on it a few times, telling them that the only different was their ringtones; Regina's was the standard message/call one, whilst Emma's was Bonnie Tyler's 'I Need a Hero' – apparently a joke by Ruby that she had no idea how to undo.

"I'm not with her, no."

When silence greeted her Regina explained sharply, "I have the same phone as her. Ms Swan must have left her phone here and took mine after she visited Henry last night. Now, is there a problem, Ms Lucas?",

"It's…uh…fine, it doesn't matter…"

"What has that idiot done now?", Regina asked, in what she hoped was a disinterested tone of voice, her white knuckled grip on the phone and widened eyes hidden from Ruby by the conveniences of modern technology.

"She's…she's gone. She went outside the barrier – two people from one of the day ranger patrols went missing."

Ruby only heard silence, and the sound of steadily controlled breathing down the other end of the phone.

"Regina?", she asked quietly, hoping not to wake the dragon

"I'll try and contact her – if she still has my phone, then I can ring that using hers."

"You don't have to do that, Regina, there are plenty of people at Granny's who'd be willing to do it. We've got a search party ready to go."

"We'll try to contact her in the morning. There's no use doing it now – even if we can reach her, she won't come back without him."

"I'll phone her. She'll listen to me, and then the search party can find her and bring her back. She's my friend."

"She is the mother of my child, Ms Lucas. Tell your little rescue party to rein themselves in until I've spoken to her."

"But-"

"But nothing. I may not be Mayor of this town anymore, but whilst the Sheriff is off playing heroine, I am the highest authority left. Nobody goes outside the barrier to look for her, and nobody sets a foot outside of Granny's or their houses until I've talked to Emma. I am understood?'

"…"

"Well?"

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever."

"Good. Spread that message."

Ruby was left with the dial tone ringing in her ears as the rest of the diner-cum-refugee camp stared at her, waiting for her to share what had just gone down, "Regina's going to talk to her in the morning if she's not back."

"Why'd Regina have Emma's phone?", somebody called from the back.

"She said Emma left it there and took hers when she left last night.", Ruby replied, "And she said she'd phone her phone – the one that Emma has – and try and find out if she's coming back or if she…can't…"

Granny snorted behind the bar and shook her head disapprovingly, "I hope that woman knocks some sense into her. Going out of the barrier. Pffft."

Oblivious to Ruby's glares, the woman carried on, this time addressing her granddaughter, "Same goes for you, young lady. Don't think I didn't know that you went out alone this morning. If you ever do that again, I'll make you into a throw rug."

A drunken titter came from Whale at this, the man nearly keeling of his chair. Ruby glared at him, then Granny and threw her hands up in frustration, walking into the back room of the diner, and leaving the remaining people to discuss just how big a tongue lashing Regina would give their Sheriff when her phone call was picked up.

People began to hunker down for the night, pulling camping mattresses and sleeping bags from every crevice in the diner, and curling up in groups on the floor.

Granny hit the lights and grabbed her crossbow, pulling up a chair by the door and sitting down. Ruby walked out of the back room, and sat down beside her grandmothers, feeling a wrinkled hand grab her own.

"It'll be okay, Red. She'll come back."

* * *

In her study, Regina felt the bottom of her stomach drop out. She stared at the phone in her hand, her jaw clenched and her eyes sad, _'Oh Emma, what have you done?'_

Standing, leaving the phone on her desk, she slipped quietly into Henry's room, perched on the end of his be and watched him sleep. He looked like her when he slept. Or she looked like him. One of the two.

But she didn't not want to think about the way Emma's hair spread out on the pillow, or how she burrowed in the blankets and insinuated herself in all of the curves and gaps of Regina's bottom, twining herself firmly in like an tenacious, insidious little piece of mistletoe on a tree.

As the his mattress dipped, Henry stirred and opened his eyes.

"S'Emma here yet?", he asked blearily, confused as to why his mother was waking him

Regina, a little choked, smoothed sleep-tousled hair off his forehead and gave him a small smile, "She's not, honey, no."

"Is she gonna come?", he asked, rolling over, and shutting his eyes, being soothed back to sleep by Regina's hand on his hair.

There were a few beats of silence, as Henry's breathing grew more rhythmic. Regina sighed and kissed her son's forehead, speaking quietly, "Not tonight Henry. She's not coming tonight."

Regina walked to her own room, pausing to grab the phone that did not belong to her.

She quickly shed her clothes and changed into her pyjamas, ignoring the plaid bottoms and white tank top laid out on her dresser. She slipped between cold sheets, half expecting warm arms worm their way around her, to encircle her and pull her close, like they did most nights. The arms did not come, and she was left alone, still awake in the dark.

For the second time in as many hours, the most prominent thought running through Regina's mind was, _'Damn you, Emma Swan.'_

* * *

The morning came far too quickly and far too slowly for Regina's liking, the breaking of it tearing though horrific, half-lucid dreams of zombies and blonde hair.

The dreams were awful.

The worst was of a zombified Emma Swan crouched over her son's dead body, teeth stained with red, with bit of gristle in between them. The zombie Emma then turned to Regina, speaking in a falsetto, mocking voice so unlike Emma's real one, "Do you want me to stop? Maybe you should have been nicer. Maybe if you were nicer I wouldn't have left. I wouldn't be like this if you had asked me to stay."

"This is your fault."

The zombie then turned back to her son's body, splitting it from neck to pelvis with one sharp, jagged fingernail. Organs began to spill from the gash, and blood flowed freely, filling up the white room they were in, and building up and up and up – too much blood from one little boy – until the blood was over Regina's head and she was drowning, held in place with skeleton arms, with a sunken face with sunken flesh staring straight into her face.

"You shouldn't have let me leave", mouthed the zombie through the blood, Emma's face peeling away until bleached bones and empty eye sockets stared at Regina, a hinged jaw stretched in a silent scream.

Regina woke with a start, covered in sweat, her eyes wild. She looked for blonde hair beside her on the pillow. There was none. Emma wasn't there.

She was outside the barrier.

Pulling herself together, Regina dressed and walked downstairs, the blackberry not leaving her hand for the duration of the trip. In the dining room, she sat, phone in front of her until she found the nerve to turn it on.

She found her name on the phone – by process of elimination – as neither 'Regina' nor 'Mills' came up with anything. She found her own number, instead, under the title 'her' with no embellishments.

She swallowed, then pressed dial, not knowing what would greet her on the other end of the phone.

* * *

Again, zombie appearances in the next chapter. I feed off reviews (and the souls of men) so please leave one - it takes so much effort to suck souls.


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